Covenant
by YamiAlex
Summary: Psalm 143:8 "Let the morning bring me word of your unfailing love, for I have put my trust in you. Show me the way I should go, for to you I entrust my life." Current Contract: Arthur Pendragon Alter (Saber)
1. Blessing (Arthur Pendragon Saber)

The cake presented to you was delectable.

Generously topped with and sandwiching layers of cream with several large and bright red strawberries nestled onto the center, it was almost a waste to eat it.

You could practically taste the cream in your mouth and feel the softness of the strawberries as you bit into them, their sweet juice squeezing out of the fruit and into your mouth as you savored each bite.

So preoccupied by the utter beauty of the pastry that you barely took notice of the one who made it in the first place.

Arthur, being the gentleman that he was, decided not to poke too much fun at you during such an auspicious occasion.

"I'm only doing this because you're cute," With one hand holding the cake steadily, the other opted to close your gaping mouth before any drool could drip down.

Really, what was he going to do with you?

"Before you drool all over your cake...Happy Birthday, Master"

At this point, you were quite used to his teasing remarks and were about to retort with your own when the meaning of his words stopped you dead in your tracks. Turning your attention away from the positively scrumptious beef cake.

Any second now he was going to say 'sike'...right?

As if reading your mind, the blond rolled his eyes and huffed before grabbing a small piece. The shortcake that sat on the fork tantalizingly was held to your lips, Arthur himself was only centimeters away. "Now...Is this romantic enough for you, Master? I seem to remember you grumbling about how I took far too much pleasure in teasing you than being a good lover some time ago"

"A-A-ARTHUR!" Your face had practically exploded and bloomed as red as Mordred's outfit as you flailed about like a mentally-handicapped seal asking for a fish from its trainer.

No matter how weird and stupid you make yourself out to be, rest assured that you were and always will be Arthur's favorite person. There was a certain irresistible charm to your idiocy after all.

Though his face, words, and actions generally make him look as if he were the epitome of the chivalrous Knight-King that he was, that was FAR from the truth and the both of you knew it.

"Did I stutter?" He raised one fine golden brow, the perfect cupid's bow lips of his set into a self-satisfied smile that you wanted to kiss the life out of .

His normal voice was already enough to send heat to your cheeks and weakness to your knees, but when he lowered it and spoke in a breathy manner?

By the Divine Spirits, this man would be the end of you!

If you had Merlin little shit still wouldn't come even after all the SQ you saved up for their banner you'd have throttled the life out of them for teaching their ways to the man who should have been the very vision of chivalry itself and not this...this licentious beast!

Before you could further embarrass yourself, the king practically shoved the pastry into your mouth, stopping you completely.

"I went through the trouble of making your favorite so the least you could do is actually eat it instead of gaping like a fish"

Honestly, was he really that bad that you could barely believe he wouldn't make something special for your birthday of all days? You had too little faith in him just because he enjoyed teasing you a tad too much on normal days.

Not that he was to be blamed, because how can he resist when you make the most adorable of faces and give the cutest reactions all the time?

Knowing better than to take the bait, you opted to start eating your cake before he flusters you to death and on your birthday of all days.

The way your smooth pink cheeks puffed up like little chipmunk's as you savored the tasty morsel (and tried to ignore the teasing he just stated that he wouldn't do) almost made him want to squeeze them.

Perhaps he'd even take a taste of the cake himself, spotting the white cream dotting the corner of your lips as you went in for another slice.

.

.

.

.

Okay, so maybe he was influenced by Merlin more than he thought⸺


	2. Wrong (Arjuna Archer)

"Why did you choose me?" His voice was soft, so soft that even a gust of wind could drown it.

Eyes downcast, he clenched his hands and gritted his teeth as he uttered the questions and truths that plagued his mind. "You deserve...more"

Mere words they may be, yet they cut deeper than any weapon or opponent he'd faced in the past.

The illusion of perfection he'd crafted to shield the parts of him he desperately hid, and like a dam it had all poured out. So many pieces of himself lay scattered for you to see, for you to judge, for you to hate just as much as he did.

Now he bared all of himself to you in all his imperfect and impure glory with fear and trepidation taking a hold of his heart like a vice. He couldn't breathe, his lungs felt like they were submerged in water.

Arjuna may as well have been waiting for his execution, because he knew that nothing would ever hurt more than your imminent rejection—

"Please don't leave me"

He wasn't prepared to be caught in a near-desperate embrace of all things.

He wasn't ready for the small face that pressed against his chest, moisture seeping into his clothes and letting his skin feel the heat of those warm tears.

"Whoever you are...and whatever you once did...none of that matters to me"

Such small, frail arms and yet they were stronger than any trap that had even dared to capture him, "The Arjuna that I have come to love and the Arjuna I chose are the same person, regardless of how badly he thinks of himself."

You were human.

You were weak and fragile.

But you gripped him as if your life depended on it.

"I'm the one who should be ashamed, because I'm not the master you deserve…" Your voice was soft just like the rest of you. "You can show me all the parts of yourself you detest and I'd still love them, because they are a part of you. Even if the sun starts to rise in the west, you are still and always will be Arjuna"

"...my Arjuna…"

You whisper the last statement as if it were a prayer, but he hears it all the same.

What was once a heart threatening to stop beating became one that could not calm even if he willed it with all his might.

The Hero of the Endowed was at a loss.

How can he even hope to respond when faced with such a devastatingly critical blow such as that?

It may not be obvious because of his dark skin, but his whole body felt as if he were harboring the heat of a thousand suns. He was sure that you could even feel it through his clothes.

During his lifetime, he'd had four wives and four children.

He was also a prince who was given everything he could ever want.

Everything that wasn't given to him, he can and would take because it was his birthright.

Even his enemies were no match before his innate might.

Nothing and no one could best him.

But all it took was this one helpless master, this one girl to break apart and bring him together.

Arjuna can scorn himself as much as he wanted, but there was one thing that he and all of his parts can attest to:

He is yours, and you are his.


	3. Human (Arjuna Alter Berserker)

As a god he had cast away his mortal vessel along with every shred of his humanity. Emotions were irrelevant to a being that had already transcended and broke free from the constraints of mortality.

"I can't stand how they're looking at you"

And yet what can he call these emotions that simmered, bubbled, and boiled within him as it took every ounce of restraint he had to NOT annihilate the filth that dared taint you?

He'd been ascended time and time again and even when he'd reached his final form, you went further and used several grails until he could no longer increase his power. With more power came understanding and acceptance of the humanity he had once cast away in his journey to godhood.

"You...are mine" What his voice lacked in volume, he certainly made up with the conviction it carried.

The Berserker's tail swung agitatedly from behind him as he practically crushed you to his taller, sturdier form. While his face remained expressionless, one could easily tell from the movements of his tail just how affected the pseudo-deity was.

Pressed against the brunette's body with not a single inch of space in between, you were practically hyperventilating as the heat of both his body and your own embarrassment threatened to consume you.

Warm, earthy, and sweet

Such scents contrasted greatly against the icy demeanor and divinity he possessed and yet you could cite no other that would fit him better. Your tense muscles slacken as you allow him to overwhelm your senses.

As you ponder over just how he managed to perpetually smell of warm cinnamon, Arjuna seems to take your relaxation as acceptance of his declaration. He nuzzles the top of your head, committing to memory your own scent as he drowns you in his own as if to stake his claim.

Regardless of the matter of his divinity and mortality, he despises the way other males allow their eyes to rove over your form. He abhors how they take advantage of the fact that you were their master so as to get closer to you.

Had he been as ruthless as before...he would have made them pay dearly for their insolence.

Evil was coveting what was not yours to begin with.

And he had vowed to vanquish all evil regardless of their severity—

"Arjuna...you smell nice," You mumble against the skin of his neck, small hands bunching the dark and smooth fabric of his top. Your warm breath fanned against his heated skin, eliciting small goosebumps across the tanned expanse.

It was almost comical how you had faced each other in battle once upon a time. The master who thanklessly fought to save humanity versus the ultimate god of their respective pantheon and within his domain of all places. The both of you fought and you had won.

That was supposed to be the end of his story this time.

But then you summoned him.

You summoned him and did your best to regain the last remnants of his mortality that he once believed to be unneeded and impure.

You taught him that he need not be perfect.

That he didn't need to be the ideal hero.

He wasn't just Arjuna the Endowed Hero.

Nor was he Arjuna, the Lost Belt King.

He just had to be Arjuna, the man that cares— No, LOVES you.

He is Arjuna.


	4. Soft (Arjuna Archer)

If he had to use only a single word to describe you, then it would be...soft.

Soft was the hair atop your head. Strands seemingly flying every which way no matter how much you tried to tie it back in some semblance of order.

Soft was the skin of your hands when you held his own calloused ones, toughened by years of handling weapons and fighting all who wished to challenge the Endowed Hero. Those hands that cradled his face and his own hands, seemingly unafraid of the blood he spilt and lives he's taken.

Soft was your breathing when he held your sleeping self against him, arms wrapped securely around your waist as he once again found himself marveling at how well you fit together despite all his reservations and insecurities about his worth.

Soft was the way you spoke his name. "Arjuna" You would smile, a small dimple appearing on the left side near your lips as you gazed at him with such warmth that at times he felt as if he were snow placed upon the first rays of sunlight.

He would melt every time.

Soft was your lips when they pressed against him. Whether it be his own lips or any other parts of his body, the archer would still find himself unfailingly softening beneath the plush smoothness of your lips.

Soft was the rest of your body, untouched by the horrors of war and conflict. Whenever he allows himself some respite and lays his head against your breast, he hears the steady beats of your heart amidst the softness of your whole being.

Arjuna does not hide nor does he celebrate the brutality of his battles, of the wars he'd fought and shed blood for.

He does not deny that before he is a hero, he is a warrior.

He does not conceal the destructive power he possesses nor his usefulness as a tool.

He does not delude himself into thinking he is free of sin.

But..

.

.

.

.

He cannot deny the way your smile softens the lump of coal that serves as his heart.

He can't stop his tanned skin from flushing a deep red when he finds himself the subject of your stare.

He's not so daft as to pretend that everything you've done, intentional or otherwise, hasn't tempered his once iron will into a gooey mush.

He does not reveal the true extent of his feelings however, until he came to a startling realization.

Soft was your body when an enemy had landed a solid hit upon your frail, mortal self which crumples down like a puppet with its strings cut. The deep red color of your blood stains the ground and Arjuna himself sees red.

He screams himself hoarse that day.

Soft were the fingers that card through his dark chocolate locks as he slept against the cot within Chaldea's infirmary.

He does not hide the relief that floods him when he wakes up to see you sitting up on the bed, the smile that crumbled all his stony foundations sitting upon your face despite the numerous bandages that peeked out from beneath your hospital gown.

When all is said and done...

When the conflicts of this world and the ones that surrounded it had finally been resolved…

Soft was your middle when he laid his cheek against it, feeling the warmth of your skin as the new life inside of you seemingly kicked at him.


	5. Lack (Arthur Pendragon Alter Saber)

Platinum blonde hair framed that perfectly sculpted face adorned with bright topaz eyes and a smile that you could lose yourself in. The altered King of Knights was truly a sight to behold, especially with the seemingly mysterious and dark allure he possessed unlike the True King of Knights.

Bottom line is, Althur ("Arthur Alter") Pendragon was ridiculously handsome.

"I need attention" Not unlike a boa constrictor, the king's arms slither around your body and pull you against a firm and broad chest.

He was also ridiculously childish.

"I seem to be experiencing a lack of affection lately…" You feel hot air being blown against the shell of your ear, shivers racing down your spine and goosebumps forming across your skin. "...And I'm wondering what caused such a shortage"

His already velvety smooth voice lowered even further, practically turning your legs into goo and making you drop to the floor had he not been holding on to you.

"...Well? I asked a question and I do believe I deserve an answer for such a grave crime being committed against me" There's a mischievous lilt to his voice, one most people wouldn't be able to pick up had they not been close to the king.

Keeping one arm wrapped tightly around your waist, the male took your chin in his hand and turned your face to his. With barely an inch separating your faces, you could now feel the heat of his breath against your heated skin.

With how bold and intimate his actions were, it was honestly difficult to form any coherent thought. Once again you were silent, pupils blown wide as you stared at those pale lips of his that formed a roguish smirk that sent butterflies to your stomach and...other sorts of feelings you'd rather not mention in fear of embarrassment.

"I don't mind making the first move, if that's the problem. I find your reluctance to bestow upon me what I am due to be fetching even, because are you purposely trying to lead me in a game of cat and mouse? Or is this all just a bout of shyness? Either way…"

Althur's eyes became half-lidded, his smirk softening and yet losing none of its potency on your poor mortal heart.

"It simply makes me want you more"

You should have seen it coming, but somehow you didn't.

Lips pressed against your own, the man easily getting past your defenses and plundering your mouth without restraint. His tongue staked its claim within the cavern of your mouth, leaving no spot untouched before engaging in a heated dance with your own tongue.

The sound of tongues melding, lips sucking, and ragged breaths was the only thing you could hear. Your legs had given out long ago and now you were only held upright by the Saber, never once faltering as he supported your whole weight.

If you were going to die via oxygen deprivation like this, at this point you didn't really have any regrets anymore. You let yourself be swept up by the current of Althur's onslaught, having accepted your early grave by being kissed to death.

When he finally deemed you sufficiently deprived of oxygen, he pulled away and smiled that polite smile he always wore in front of the world.

"I assume we've come to an understanding then? Very good. I do hope we no longer experience such a shortage again or else I might be pushed to take...drastic measures"

Scratch that. He was also a damned tease.


End file.
